Lyrics:
on the radio
Tell the DJ spin it on the mix show
Make a brother feel like I'm down at the disco
And we gonna keep it going like Crisco
'Cause the DJ grab
, check it, ah, ah, ah
It's Will.i.am, check it out, check it, ah, ah, ah
Can't be wastin' time, yeah, I gotta make my move, man
Gotta girlie lookin'
get it, I'ma champ
I gotta give thanks, ooh
I'm in my bag, clean mix
Stretch out the pack, clean, mix
Stretch out the rocks, clean kicks
Fresh out
'cause they
Knowin' that this is
The place to be to let it all out
But when the weekend come, the weekend come
(Ow yeah) y'all could come
So go tell ya
from the misses
Pounds from my brothers, 'cause they knowing that this is
The place to be to let it all out
But when the weekend come, the weekend
knees
I mix it all up like a recipe
Coca-cola and whiskey to wash it down
Sometimes I feel like my wheels ain't touchin' the ground
At the side
What? Hip-hop y'all, to the top y'all
Hip-hop check it out
It's like that uh and it sounds so nice
Hip-hop, you the love of my life
We 'bout
What? Hip-hop y'all, to the top y'all
Hip-hop check it out
It's like that uh and it sounds so nice
Hip-hop, you the love of my life
We 'bout
the misses
Pounds from my brothers, 'cuz they knowing that this is
The place to be to let it all out
But when the weekend come, the weekend come
Y'all
thousand in there (G-Unit radio)
When the drama get to poppin'
It don't bother me, it don't bother me
(50 cent) when the shell casings get to
Droppin' it
check
I can tell he ain't gettin' no check
Fake diamonds all in his neck
Real commas all in my check
I be stuntin' pullin' to jet
I be turnt up in the mix
Did roads done
That's how the checks came in
Many packs now
It's just a featherweight ting
Broski got to go in
She slyly text
She wants in
Not by
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, check it out
Introducin' the international
Worldwide, Brick City
To each his own, I'ma have
check it out:
Tonight we're gonna flip and trip and let it all hang out tonight,
We're gonna say what we like.
'Cause, yo, yo, we want to know how many
check]
[I'm wit' it. Yo Dave, let's show 'em some old school]
It makes no sense just standin' around,
Come on everybody, let's all...[Hang out]
Yeah,
[Verse 3 - Sir Mix-A-Lot]
Criticized by the main stream
For not bein the house jig and keepin things squeaky clean
But I can't, so I ain't
But I won't play
Maestro)
Props goes out to our man R O B
(Zebulon)
Props props props check it
(Mac Maestro)
Right there Sassy Laroo
You know how we do it
you know how we
open and barf in it
I'll cum in your moms box and
Let my cock spar with it
Put something hard in it, go hard in it
Then pull out then stick my whole arm
wanna split
And it shows just how it goes in the mix
Now there they go with the stones and the sticks
Throwing them fits tryna keep you on the under
Put
spiritual essence
And he goes by the name of, uh
Hood
Check your rhyme, punk that ass or get got, F it (shit)
I lick buckshots, Hood, madman, I rip up
avoid this
We fall victim to it more or less
What's coming out I need the appointment
I need the applause of the orges my garments perform for em
So far I
Mozart than most, my key lyrically
Is noted on a scale above the whole industry
It's Dax i got bars out in Georgia
Twenty-minute songs'll probably Illinois
Theresa May
Recently, I've been forcing rhymes
Eminem does it all the time
Now Shady's forty-five
Anyone still check Shade 45?
By the way, Oliver Age 24
beats, baby)
Great John on the beat, by the way
I don't care if it still stink, I'ma leave her alone
Even though she out here wishin' R. Kelly was
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